The Isles of Loch Awe and Other Poems of my Youth With Sixteen Illustrations. By Philip Gilbert Hamerton |
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FALLING STARS. |
 | The Isles of Loch Awe and Other Poems of my Youth |  |
336
FALLING STARS.
With old traditions all around us dying,
We sometimes tremble for the inner sense
That feeds upon the beautiful; and sighing,
Repeat old tales, though faith is banished hence.
We sometimes tremble for the inner sense
That feeds upon the beautiful; and sighing,
Repeat old tales, though faith is banished hence.
Here, as we sit, unwillingly receiving
More precious truths than they possessed of old,
We envy them the pleasure of believing,
Hoarding old coins in fields of Nature's gold.
More precious truths than they possessed of old,
We envy them the pleasure of believing,
Hoarding old coins in fields of Nature's gold.
Such are the useless treasures we inherit,
No longer current in our modern thought;
But those who made them marked them with their spirit,
And so we keep them fondly, as we ought.
No longer current in our modern thought;
But those who made them marked them with their spirit,
And so we keep them fondly, as we ought.
Such, amongst others, is that explanation
Of falling stars—that every one was tied
By a thread spun at somebody's creation,
And that the thread divided when he died.
Of falling stars—that every one was tied
By a thread spun at somebody's creation,
And that the thread divided when he died.
337
It must have been delightful to believers
To take a census on the starry nights,
When the high Fates, those stern, mysterious weavers,
Hung out in heaven a multitude of lights.
To take a census on the starry nights,
When the high Fates, those stern, mysterious weavers,
Hung out in heaven a multitude of lights.
But when they saw one suddenly descending
Down the bright sky—extinguished in the dark,
They knew that some one's earthly life was ending,
And saw a death in every dying spark.
Down the bright sky—extinguished in the dark,
They knew that some one's earthly life was ending,
And saw a death in every dying spark.
Alas! the stories that we leave behind us
Contain what we can ill afford to lose;
And this may still be useful to remind us
Of death. Its warning let us not refuse.
Contain what we can ill afford to lose;
And this may still be useful to remind us
Of death. Its warning let us not refuse.
Though knowledge may have broken the connexion
Between the tenure of our little lives
And the bright stars, their fall excites reflection,
And silent prayers for some one who survives.
Between the tenure of our little lives
And the bright stars, their fall excites reflection,
And silent prayers for some one who survives.
And when you see a meteor wildly leaping
Into the dark, think not the legend lies;
For every moment there are mourners weeping,
And every moment some beloved one dies.
Into the dark, think not the legend lies;
For every moment there are mourners weeping,
And every moment some beloved one dies.
'Tis a worn coin, though marked with the impression
Of human features; but I will unfold
A store of wealth—man's new and bright possession,
Gathered of late in Nature's fields of gold.
Of human features; but I will unfold
A store of wealth—man's new and bright possession,
Gathered of late in Nature's fields of gold.
338
Not long ago, one evening last November,
I walked upon the mountains with my friend;
We started after dusk, and I remember
The stars were bright before our journey's end.
I walked upon the mountains with my friend;
We started after dusk, and I remember
The stars were bright before our journey's end.
And as I told him some romantic story,
I paused to watch a star that suddenly
Shot and, extinguished, left a trail of glory,
That died into faint light upon the sky.
I paused to watch a star that suddenly
Shot and, extinguished, left a trail of glory,
That died into faint light upon the sky.
I said, “There is a deep and sacred mystery
About those glancing lights on heaven's floor
That awes the heart.” “And if you knew their history,”
Answered my friend, “you still would wonder more.”
About those glancing lights on heaven's floor
That awes the heart.” “And if you knew their history,”
Answered my friend, “you still would wonder more.”
“They fly,” said he, “in thick and countless legions,
Whirling in one great orbit round the sun;
And, swiftly coursing through the silent regions
Of empty space, they ever float and run.
Whirling in one great orbit round the sun;
And, swiftly coursing through the silent regions
Of empty space, they ever float and run.
“They have no rest—their life is one migration;
Small bodies banded in unnumbered hosts;
Some drop—not from fatigue, but gravitation—
Upon the mountains, continents, and coasts.
Small bodies banded in unnumbered hosts;
Some drop—not from fatigue, but gravitation—
Upon the mountains, continents, and coasts.
“Though thousands slake their fiery substance, hissing
In the deep waters of the lonely seas,
And every year are some old comrades missing,
Yet still the flock is like a swarm of bees.
In the deep waters of the lonely seas,
And every year are some old comrades missing,
Yet still the flock is like a swarm of bees.
339
“And when, across our orbit swiftly going,
They reach the limits of our atmosphere,
Their dark, invisible bodies, hot and glowing,
Blaze as they pass, then swiftly disappear.
They reach the limits of our atmosphere,
Their dark, invisible bodies, hot and glowing,
Blaze as they pass, then swiftly disappear.
“And some have dropped near human habitations,
Piercing the solid surface of the ground,
And been held sacred by the simple nations
On whose paternal acres they were found.
Piercing the solid surface of the ground,
And been held sacred by the simple nations
On whose paternal acres they were found.
“Mongolian Chiefs and Caliphs had their sabres
Forged of celestial ore, that they might be
Divinely armed against unpleasant neighbours,
Or against slaves aspiring to be free.
Forged of celestial ore, that they might be
Divinely armed against unpleasant neighbours,
Or against slaves aspiring to be free.
“A monk at Crema, when devoutly praying,
Received in answer such a heavy stone
That he was silenced—God's own missile slaying
His humble priest. His death is not alone.
Received in answer such a heavy stone
That he was silenced—God's own missile slaying
His humble priest. His death is not alone.
“Another, taking his accustomed airing
About Milan, was likewise roughly floored,
And picked up dead. And also two seafaring
Swedes met the same fate, they were killed on board.”
About Milan, was likewise roughly floored,
And picked up dead. And also two seafaring
Swedes met the same fate, they were killed on board.”
I answered. If such masses of hot iron
As that in our museum ever fell
On any town, not greater woes environ
The Russian fortress from our shot and shell.
As that in our museum ever fell
On any town, not greater woes environ
The Russian fortress from our shot and shell.
340
I've often stood before it filled with wonder,
Thinking of how it came here long ago—
Of its terrific fall in claps of thunder,
When first it came to settle here below.
Thinking of how it came here long ago—
Of its terrific fall in claps of thunder,
When first it came to settle here below.
How, after rushing through unmeasured distance
In the eternal ages of the past,
It could descend to such a mean existence,
And deign to be exhibited at last.
In the eternal ages of the past,
It could descend to such a mean existence,
And deign to be exhibited at last.
The weary crowds who daily past it wander,
Then go to see some foreign raree show,
Would, if they knew its value, stay and ponder
Over the most outlandish thing we know.
Then go to see some foreign raree show,
Would, if they knew its value, stay and ponder
Over the most outlandish thing we know.
A thing, not only foreign to the nation,
But to the very planet where we dwell,
Wherein it holds as strange a situation
As Orpheus in the corridors of Hell.
But to the very planet where we dwell,
Wherein it holds as strange a situation
As Orpheus in the corridors of Hell.
I've touched it with a thrill of such deep feeling
As vibrates through a saint's excited nerves
When he receives the sacred wafer kneeling,
And touches—tastes—the deity he serves.
As vibrates through a saint's excited nerves
When he receives the sacred wafer kneeling,
And touches—tastes—the deity he serves.
Not that I worship stars—but in this relic
Of some bright courser round the central sun,
I would receive a messenger angelic
From other kingdoms of the Eternal One.
Of some bright courser round the central sun,
I would receive a messenger angelic
From other kingdoms of the Eternal One.
341
Saying, “Not only is the earth material,
And made of substance having bulk and weight;
But meteor-stars, so brilliant and aërial,
Are in themselves the same, though not so great.”
And made of substance having bulk and weight;
But meteor-stars, so brilliant and aërial,
Are in themselves the same, though not so great.”
And so does matter glorify its being,
Flying above us as on angels' wings,
And we become philosophers on seeing
These fragments of the universe of things.
Flying above us as on angels' wings,
And we become philosophers on seeing
These fragments of the universe of things.
NOTE.
Humboldt, who always looks upon nature with the eye of a poet as well as the profound knowledge of a man of science, provided the materials for this poem in his wonderful book on the universe. (Cosmos, Bohn's edition, vol. i. from p. 97 to p. 126; also vol. iv. from p. 566 to p. 596.) The assistance derived from other sources is inconsiderable, and does not need specific acknowledgment.
The large mass of meteoric iron alluded to is under the window in the first room of the north gallery in the British Museum. It was sent from Buenos Ayres by Mr. Parish, in 1826. This fragment weighs 1400 lbs. It is supposed to be part of a large mass found at Otumpa, in the Gran Chaco Gualamba, in S. America, by Don Rubin de Celis, who estimated the weight of the whole at fifteen tons. It was, therefore, no exaggeration to compare the effects of such a missile to the havoc of shot and shell.
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